Armageddon and the Future of Humanity

Good morning, and thank you for this opportunity to explore what global scriptural prophecies—particularly those from the Bible and most particularly the biblical prophecy of Armageddon—might reveal about our future. I have one disclosure, which will come as no surprise, and that is that I don’t know what I’m talking about. Dr. Weaver, with whom I shared a draft of this essay, noted that the book of Revelation is full of theological landmines, therefore humility of interpretation should be the first order of business. In fact, it’s worse than that. I have read the Book of Revelation, which is the main prophecy concerning Armageddon, but only once, and only in The Message translation; and I have not even read a much more recent book on which I draw for part of this talk. (I do have a defense, but to present it would defeat the goal of humility, and anyway there isn’t time!)  🙂  Bottom line: Caveat auditor (Listener beware).

When I talk about “our” apocalyptic future, I don’t just mean our little group or even all Christians: I think it’s important to point out that Christians are not alone in believing in a divine re-ordering of a corrupt world—which is what I think “End Time” really means. Islam, Hinduism, and Judaism also believe in an apocalyptic End Time similar in some ways to the Christian belief. Together, those four faiths comprise nearly three-quarters of the world population. 

The Book of Revelation was written I believe by John—not the Apostle, but an early Christian evangelist who was exiled to the island of Patmos by the Romans for his evangelism (Revelation 1:9). His Book is one of the most enigmatic and prophetic texts of the Bible. I will compare its themes and warnings of the End Time to current existential threats and global trends. To do so, I’ll be drawing primarily on Hal Lindsey’s influential—though controversial— interpretation of Revelation given in his 1970 best-seller: The Late Great Planet Earth. Lindsey died last November. Not everybody agrees with him, but I tend to do so. 

In his seminal book The Medium is the Message, published in 1967 (we might say at about the same time as Lindsey) Marshall McLuhan observed that “We look at the present through a rear-view mirror. We march backwards into the future.” In other words, we interpret current and future events through the lens of past experiences and frameworks. 

This idea seems to resonate with the Seventh-day Adventist (SDA) Church’s historicist approach to the Book of Revelation. The historicist method interprets Revelation as a chronology of historical events spanning from the early church to the end of time. Thus, the SDA church views Revelation through the “rear-view mirror” of history in order to interpret present and future developments. 

To me, the historicist approach hamstrings Revelation’s relevance to unprecedented challenges such as technological and environmental crises. This raises the question: Does this backward-focused perspective sufficiently equip the church to deal with the uncharted complexities of the future? 

The SDA is not alone in taking a distinctive stance on Revelation. The Catholic church, the Jehovah’s Witnesses, old Uncle Tom Cobley an’ all take their own stances on it. Each interprets how the apocalyptic events unfold and when they occur quite differently. But one thing everyone seems to agree on is that Revelation foretells divinely guided end-time physical events centered on Jesus Christ’s ultimate victory over evil.

My goal is to examine whether Lindsey’s predictions still align with events unfolding in our time and how they might be accelerating under the weight of modern challenges such as climate change, global conflicts, and technological upheaval. 

First, I want quickly to address the question of whether this time that we ourselves are living in is the “real” End Time meant by the Book of Revelation. It’s a much-studied question, but I opt for the Zen answer, which is: Yes and No. Yes, because as I am about to relate, the events of our time do seem to map to the events depicted in Revelation; and No, because everybody, everywhere, and in all times has lived in times that could be mapped to the events of Revelation. 

When John wrote the Book of Revelation, probably around 81–96 CE (though some put it earlier) he would have been aware of several ongoing or recent catastrophes:

So John’s apocalyptic vision certainly applied to his own time, whether that was what he intended or not. 

With that background, let’s examine the book in light of Lindsey’s interpretation of its relevance to today. He identifies five key elements in Revelation. They are: A sense of urgency, a warning, the rise of the antichrist, environmental catastrophe, and hope and redemption.

The first key element is that Revelation’s message is urgent—and John says so, right up front: “[T]he time is near,” he writes in Revelation 1:3, and as we have just seen, he had good reason to think so. In the 1960s as Hal Lindsey wrote his book, he saw John’s prophecy unfolding before his very eyes. He described a sequence of quasi apocalyptic events including geopolitical turmoil, environmental disasters, and the rise of a global leader.

My own interpretation of what I read in the news (and I consider myself reasonably well informed through the major media) is that we do indeed live in a time of rapid escalation of the three existential threats Linsey saw in the 1960s. The first of these threats was climate change, which has now been definitively linked by science with the intensification of natural disasters. This indeed mirrors the apocalyptic imagery—the earthquakes, famines, and scorching heat—of Revelation (16:8-9). 

The second existential threat is caused by global conflicts: There was, in Lindsey’s time and there still is today, growing social and political instability almost everywhere, including “stable” regions like Western Europe and North America; but of course it is especially noticeable in the Middle East, which Lindsey believes is the spark that will ignite Armageddon. John’s world was much smaller than ours, but it sure must have seemed at least as turbulent as our world is today.

And last but not least in the existential threat department, technological advancements do have some potential to destroy humanity. Lindsey equates some technological innovations—an ID chip implant, for instance—with the “mark of the beast” mentioned in Revelation 13:16-18. The rise of AI agents and companions might challenge traditional notions of divine interaction. Could humanity mistake—or be led by others to believe in—sophisticated AI entities for manifestations of divinity? And how might this shape not only faith but also the moral and spiritual choices we make as a species?

The second key element of Revelation are the lessons for humanity in John’s Messages to the Seven Churches. These refer to seven early Christian churches in modern-day Turkey (Revelation 2-3). They were facing moral and spiritual tribulations, and in that sense, John’s warnings clearly apply to us too, today. John admonished the churches to persevere in their faith even when times were bad, because eventually things would get better. In the meantime, they should have no truck with immorality, falsity, corruption, and especially not with immoral, false, and corrupt leaders. Instead, they should wake up if they were spiritually asleep, and they should stay awake. (Interestingly (to me) he also told them to stop trying to be cool: Be either hot or cold, he said, but don’t be lukewarm or cool. Maybe that’s a discussion for another day.)

The third key element of Revelation is its prophecies concerning The Rise of Global Powers and the Antichrist. Lindsey identified immoral, false, and corrupt leadership in Russia and China as the Gog, Magog, and “kings of the East” mentioned in Revelation. These identifications may be a bit foggy—Gog is the leader of a global coalition that will attack Israel and Magog is a leader of the forces of evil at Armageddon—but Russia’s aggression against Ukraine and the economic and military ascent of China seem to fit Revelation’s scanty description. Their expanding global power and cooperation hints at the possibility of an attempt to form a unified global leadership, paving the way for the “Antichrist” envisioned in Revelation.

Whether or not Lindsey’s alignments between Revelation and today’s world are literal or figurative, the themes of power, control, and moral compromise certainly resonate uncomfortably, at least with me.

So, too, does the fourth key element of Revelation: Environmental Catastrophe. As we’ve noted, plagues, earthquakes, and environmental upheavals are some of the most vivid images in Revelation (6, 8, and 16). Lindsey interpreted these events as divine judgments, possibly amplified by human actions such as nuclear war or environmental exploitation.

The pandemics, record-breaking heatwaves, rising sea levels, and catastrophic wildfires we are experiencing today certainly do seem to parallel Revelation’s warnings. Not only that: Humanity has played and continues to play a role as both a villain and a victim of ecological destruction. It seems to turn Revelation into a self-fulfilling prophecy whereby our own actions bring about Armageddon.

But the fifth key element of Revelation makes moot all the doom and gloom of the other four elements in its promise of Hope and Redemption, of the possibility of marching out of Armageddon unscathed into a New Heaven and New Earth. Despite the horror implicit in the very name Armageddon (which is an actual place—a mound—in northern Israel where, according to Revelation, the final battle between good and evil will be fought), Revelation concludes with the decisive defeat of Evil there, and the establishment of a new heaven and new earth of peace, justice, and harmony, where God dwells among humanity (Revelation 21-22). 

For Lindsey, this hope was contingent on individual faith and global repentance. I’m not sure where “global” repentance fits in, but I think I am beginning to see that individual faith may be the only way to be on the winning side at Armageddon. 

In sum: Whether taken to be literal, symbolic, or allegorical, the Book of Revelation calls humanity to awaken to the gravity and urgency of the choices it faces. Lindsey’s interpretation of those choices was widely popular, judging by the blockbuster sales of his book, though he has been viewed skeptically in some thoughtful quarters. Nevertheless, to me, his interpretation at least serves to suggest that scripture in general, and Revelation in particular, speaks to everyone, everywhere, and at all times. 

To be sure, to many people today, the existential threats—from climate change to geopolitical conflict—suggest that John’s warning that “[T]he time is near” applies more urgently to the whole beleaguered and wayward world of today than it did to the beleaguered and wayward seven churches of his time.  The urgency of Revelation’s warnings applies not just to global leaders or institutions, but to each of us. Our choices—how we live, how we engage with technology, how we care for creation—matter profoundly. The time is indeed near. How will you respond? Should your response be active or passive? How is your religious organization responding? Is it adequate? 

The future of humanity is uncertain, but the choices we make now will shape it profoundly. What role does faith play in making those choices? What role should corporate religion play? How might the unfolding apocalyptic events affect the relationship between us and God? To what extent might technology—particularly AI and virtual reality—influence both the apocalyptic process and our individual relationship with God? How will the rise of AI agents, companions, and (I predict) AI entities passed off as God(s) affect the relationship? 

I guess the overarching question is: How should we respond to Revelation’s urgent warning? What should we do about it, as individuals and as members of a church?

Don: I might say parenthetically that there are probably many who don’t agree with Hal Lindsey, although his book certainly resonated with a large evangelical population. But my first question is a little more fundamental: Why is it that we’re so captivated by the future? Why do we want to know what the future holds and where we are on the timeline of the end? Is there something we’re afraid of that we believe can be mitigated by knowing about the future? What is so compelling about it?

Second, given our mortal state—which all of us must face sooner or later—why are we so concerned about the timeline of history when our individual piece of that timeline is so short? Another way of saying this is that, for me, the end of the world is imminent. I’m 75 years old, and even if I were fortunate to have the longevity of my father, I don’t have that many more years left in the timeline of history. So, what is so compelling? Why do we feel it’s so necessary to understand and parse all these prophetic statements?

It seems that somehow this knowledge gives us a sense of control over the future, a sense of direction. But why is that so important? If, as David said, no matter how you interpret the Book of Revelation—no matter what method of interpretation you use—everyone agrees that in the end, evil is destroyed, goodness reigns, and God makes a new heaven and a new earth. So, I’m curious: Why do we have such a need to know the future?

C-J: I think that we are co-creators with God and that we live in two dimensions simultaneously. We live in the temporal, but we are spirit beings who are supposed to be present as ambassadors of the revelation we’ve received. It’s always been that way. Spiritually, the healers in a community had an understanding of what is not seen with the naked eye, but they were also accountable to the villages or communities they resided in—or traveled through—to help people see that they, too, are co-creators.

You can create peace or chaos. You can foster health mentally, spiritually, and physically—not necessarily in that order, but spirit, mental, and physical health are interconnected. When I think about the metaphorical Garden of Eden, that’s what God was revealing to us. That’s why the story is presented that way. We are aware of God making provision for us spiritually. When we took control into our own hands, we realized we were co-creators. God said, “You will work in the earth, you will sweat, and you will have pain in the labor of procreation.”

In my understanding, we live in two realities simultaneously—spiritual and temporal.

Sharon: I think that the Adventist culture, in and of itself, has also compounded this challenge. For me, I was always raised to believe that Jesus is coming soon. We sang about that; we lived it. The whole idea of Adventism is rooted in waiting for the Advent, going all the way back to the Great Disappointment. Through our culture, we were urged to focus on heaven—the idea that there will be no crying there.

Sometimes, we’ve almost come to the point of wanting to avoid the here and now. In some sense, we were so eager for the kingdom to come that we forget, as Adventists today, that we’re part of either the good or the bad, the chaos or the sanity. As Don said, the whole issue of our mortality is so intertwined with what I do today. If I’m just looking for tomorrow and forgetting that I’m on a journey today to make the world a different place because of God’s grace and presence living through me, what a tragedy that would be.

My days are numbered, but if those numbered days don’t impact my daily response—if I’m so fearful or so eagerly looking for something to come that I miss out on the opportunities Christ has given me to live today—then I’ve missed the point. The issue of fear is real, and we were socialized into a kind of fear: “You may not have tomorrow, but you have today.” Making the most of what we’ve got while we’ve got it is absolutely our responsibility, and it’s critically important that we focus on that.

Donald: I would, as I often do, try to apply something to this conversation and visualize it somehow. Think of a map—a good-sized map, say, the size of the whole United States. You put your finger on it and say, “Okay, this is me right now.” Apparently, I’d have to be somewhere near Michigan because I could fill in a lot of history. My little part of the street would only get me as far as Wisconsin, maybe. But in terms of understanding our earth’s history, we have a much deeper understanding of our past than we do of our future—that’s my point.

Here we are, and we say, “Okay, this is where I am.” And as Sharon pointed out, we’re not satisfied in the moment. We want to know where we’re headed. There’s no point in having a map unless I know my destination. I can look at it and see where I am, but we have this huge desire to understand, “Where am I going?” I know I may not make it to the East Coast, but our future is eternity, which is an incredible thing to think about. I’m not even sure we can fully comprehend that. To me, we have a pretty good sense of our past, but we have very little real knowledge of our future. So if we see ourselves on that map, we’re not comfortable just knowing, “Here I am, and this is where I’ll be.” We want to know our destination—in all cases, when we look at a map.

C-J: It’s no different than the Israelites who spent 40 years in the desert moving forward. Moses kept telling them that Canaan isn’t necessarily a place—it’s how you see your relationship with the Divine. And since the Divine is spiritual—”I Am the Beginning and the End”—it doesn’t have a physical dimension to it.

But as you described, what’s built into us is this need to get up and move forward—just keep moving forward. I think that’s critical to the whole concept of being co-creators with God. If we stay in either one of those dimensions—spiritual or temporal—we get stuck.

If we think of our spiritual life, there are hopes and promises that God gives us in terms of provision, maturity, and relationship with each other. He’s always saying, “See God in one another—this is the Divine resident within you.” And He’s always telling us it’s about relationship with God, which helps us understand our relationship with humanity and preserves us on this planet. When we lose sight of either of those two things, we fail miserably. We destroy because we’re so afraid that someone wants what we have and that we need it to survive. But really, we need it the other way around.

Michael: I think it’s narcissism. We always want to see ourselves at the critical moment of history, when everything is going to happen, and we become the most important players in history. As David pointed out, this has been happening throughout history. Everybody thinks they’re living in the most critical period of history, and maybe they believe their choices at this moment are more impactful than the choices of those who came before them.

I wonder if it’s not just imagining ourselves in that role—how Jonah wanted to make sure he was outside the gates, watching fire fall from heaven on the people. We want to make sure we’re in the “good camp,” watching the “bad camp.” Sometimes, that’s the sense I get from some church messages.

Don: Do you think things are really worse now than they’ve ever been? I hear people talking about the fires in Los Angeles, saying, “This is the worst it’s ever been—this is a sign of the end.” When Hal Lindsey wrote his book in the 1960s, things were so disrupted and distressing to the population that I think that was one of the reasons his book became such a bestseller.

But are things really worse now than they were for John the Revealer? Or do we live in a golden age, as the new president says?

C-J: I think we reap what we sow, and the planet is reaching its limit. There are simply too many people on the planet for it to sustain us, and with modern communication methods and global resource challenges, it becomes even more difficult. I’ll go big here: without the discernment of the Holy Spirit to guide us toward truth and responsibility—both as individuals and collectively as a nation—we’re lost.

This entire dynamic is about the planet and its sustainability. The planet will win in the end. Humanity, however, may look very different. While we may not see the worst of what’s to come because of our age, the younger generation is already aware of the challenges. Intuitively, they carry this sense of apathy and powerlessness. They’re lost. They really don’t know what to do.

But as believers in God—a spiritual God with a narrative that says, “If you believe and walk this path, you will see the revelation of who you really are”—we have hope. Yes, we are organic beings here, but when we come to understand who we are spiritually in this relationship, we will be liberated in ways we cannot even begin to comprehend. That’s what I think draws people into the Christian belief system, though this concept is also expressed in other faith systems—that we are spirit first.

I believe we must understand that the planet sustains us, and we need to honor both the planet and each other.

Donald: I’m sorry to take us back to my simple analogy, but how do you feel when you’re driving along using the GPS? GPS is pretty narrow in its focus. It shows, “This is where you are,” and the line keeps moving. It fills in a little bit, but not much.

We’re much more comfortable having a big map alongside the GPS. Are we comfortable enough to just know, “This is here, this is now, this is what I know, and this is where I’m going,” without needing it all spelled out for us? Or do we need it shown to us, expressed to us, how everything will play out?

I have a very dear friend who talks about the end of time. Eighty to eighty-five percent of his spiritual conversation is about that—the end of time. And I think to myself, “Is that really the point?” It makes me think of what Michael said earlier about our need to raise a flag and declare that we know something others don’t. Is that really our purpose? Is spreading the gospel supposed to be about predicting how the future will play out, or is it something entirely different?

Michael: I think if we look at scientific data—actual, measurable data—about the number of people starving, the standard of living, the advancements in medicine, it all points to the fact that we are living in a golden age. Our standard of living has increased so much that we’ve lost sight of how people lived in the past.

Yes, there are still people starving—we see them on the news—but if we follow the data, this is the least amount of starvation that has ever occurred in the history of the world. We just don’t see it because we don’t look at the total picture. When we do, the data shows that we are, in fact, in a golden age.

Carolyn: Somewhere in the Bible is a conversation that goes something like this: “When will these things come to pass?” And the response was, “Very quickly, very soon.” This was spoken so long ago, during or just after the time of Jesus. The relativity of that statement has always lingered in the back of my mind. I’ve heard it preached many times—the urgency of “right now is the time” when we should expect the end times. But even back then, they were already expecting Jesus to come again. “When will you come, Father?” they asked. And yet here we are, still asking the same question.

Don: You’re referencing the conversation between Jesus and His disciples about the end of time. You’re correct—it’s in the Gospels. Jesus was asked directly about when these things would occur.

Carolyn: It seemed like they believed it was coming very quickly. There was this “Prepare yourself” kind of urgency. But as we are focusing on the end of time, what are we doing right now? Are we living the lives we need to be living, doing what we’re supposed to be doing, to make the life here and now meaningful? Are we reaching out with love to those who are hurting? Are we sharing the gospel? Because we are the gospel. In Jesus, we’ve been given the opportunity not just to talk about the end times or the chronological details, but also to share the beauty of Jesus. He is coming, but we do not know the hour.

C-J: I think that transition you’re describing is our personal, organic death. But you’re right—we have an accountability for the legacy we leave behind. Jesus spoke about that too, in terms of bearing good fruit, being healers, and restoring communities. For example, consider Nehemiah, who went out to reestablish the wall and put up gates to protect the people. He returned to the foundations of what is good: the Ten Commandments, ritual, tradition, family, governance, and choosing leaders wisely.

God always wanted to be our leader. Kings were something humanity asked for, not what God intended. So in one sense, the concept is simple—but it’s also a big ask for humans. As Michael mentioned earlier, we’re pretty egocentric. We want to be kings. We say, “I’m right. Look what I did.”

But God reminds us: “Without me, nothing happens. I have written your destiny before time. I knew who you were to be long before you were conceived. For I have great plans for you.”

It isn’t our map; it’s God’s map. When we pause and finally get into a right relationship with God, we experience that unspeakable peace. The Holy Spirit lights our path, teaches us, and equips us to be ambassadors of God. And as ambassadors, we are held to a higher standard—to forgive, to extend grace, to support others, and to fulfill our mandate well.

Reinhard: One message of Revelation is about the final battle between good and evil. Another message is about the Second Coming. Jesus spoke about this when the disciples asked Him in Matthew 24, and we’ve already discussed Paul’s mention of it in Thessalonians—how they were expecting to witness the Second Coming themselves.

I also think about the early Adventists and the Great Disappointment when William Miller proclaimed that Jesus would return in 1844. That news at the time captivated people and led many to seek God more earnestly. At least, that’s what I’ve read in history. Revelation, to me, feels similar to what Don mentioned about GPS. We look ahead for the incoming events or the future journey we’re going to take.

As Christians, when we discuss the Second Coming, it’s something that can happen both individually and globally. In Adventism, this teaching is one of our strengths, and I believe it resonates especially in third-world countries. In the country I came from, people talk every day about the “soon coming.” It seems to encourage them to stay close to God and live according to His commandments.

Looking at history, we can draw lessons from Revelation and the messages to the seven churches. Of course, we know that we are living in the final church period before the end times. Some may talk about a “golden age” or a long future for the world, but the truth is, we don’t really know. What we do know is that we must always be prepared. Revelation paints a picture of calamities and grand events that will take place. Maybe we won’t see these events physically in our lifetimes—who knows? The global Second Coming could happen tomorrow, or it could be far in the future.

The point is the same as it has been throughout history: we are warned to stay close to God. The call to “come out of Babylon” is a warning to separate ourselves from wickedness. Babylon is depicted as the source of all wickedness, and we are called to walk the path God wants for us. If we do that, we don’t have to worry.

At the end of the day, those who remain faithful and endure through tribulation will be redeemed. And with that redemption comes the reward we’ve been promised—eternal life. Life on Earth is about living according to God’s commands. When we do that, we can look forward to the ultimate reward.

Carolyn: I think something has been said by almost everyone today that resonates with me, but how do we stay close to God? We have the Holy Spirit, and we have the desire, but we also have a very strong adversary—or predator—that is constantly trying to draw us away. Is there a skill or practice for staying close to God? When we are close to Him, everything is taken care of. Yet sometimes, I feel so far away. Other times, I have moments of joy, where I feel such love and closeness, and there’s no fear. I just want to stay there all the time.

C-J: I think that feeling you described—the awareness of others who are lost and the tension it creates within us—is something Jesus experienced too. He came to be the sacrifice and the physical witness in this dimension because we are loved by God. When we see the lack of understanding in others, it causes us to weep; it hurts. We don’t want that feeling for ourselves. We want to stay in the presence of God, where there is peace.

But God tells us to look outward: to feed the poor, to lift up those in need, to pray for others—for healing, for revelation. When we’re in a hard place, I think many of us have felt what you’re describing and cried out, “Lord, what is happening?” But that’s how God moves us to pray. You see the need because He has opened your eyes. Now, pray and trust that He is with them, too.

God is wonderful. Don’t ever doubt what He is doing or how faithful He is in making provision.

Don: Another way to look at it is to remember that it’s not our obligation to stay close to God. Its is His obligation to stay close to us, and He is committed to doing so. It’s easy to get caught up in thinking we have to work to stay close to God, but He’s always close to us. The best evidence of that, if you need something to hold onto, is simply to do good to others. Jesus says in the parable of the sheep and the goats that “as you do it unto the least of these, you’re doing it unto me.” So, don’t worry so much about trying to stay close to God. He’s already close to you, whether you feel it or not. If you need evidence of His presence, reach out to help someone in need.

Carolyn: I also think about when Christ was on the cross, at the end of His life, and He cried out to the Father, “Where are you?” Even Jesus expressed that longing to be close to God. 

I think sometimes we get so caught up in doing things—teaching about the end times or focusing on the events we think are coming—that we don’t take the time to just enjoy being with Jesus. Our minds get so full of everything else.

Kiran: I used to have a lot of questions about the Second Coming and the eschatology of Adventism. I’ve struggled with some key issues.

First, in the Gospels, God is portrayed as a God of love—sacrificing Himself for the sake of humanity. But in Adventist eschatology, God becomes a destroyer. He destroys half the earth with each plague and billions of people in the process. How do we reconcile these two vastly different portrayals of God?

Second, Adventist eschatology—and that of many other predominantly Eurocentric and American-centric Christian interpretations—excludes huge parts of the world. Where is China, one of the largest populations on earth? Where is India? Where is Africa? These regions, and their peoples, seem completely absent from the story. Instead, the narrative focuses almost entirely on Europe and the United States.

Third, when we talk about good and bad in prophecy, why is it framed in terms of countries or regions? It’s often presented as the United States versus Russia or China, or Israel versus Egypt. But in Egypt, you’ll find good and bad people. The same is true in Israel—or any other nation, for that matter. How did a spiritual interpretation of prophecy become a geographical one? Why are Russians or Chinese considered bad? Why can’t Americans or Europeans be the ones considered bad? And what about Indians with their many gods—how do they fit into this narrative? Why are they not in the Bible?

Another thought I’ve had: If Christ represents love and the antichrist represents greed and selfishness, why can’t we interpret things more spiritually? If Christ asks us to serve one another, maybe the “end of the world” could be understood as a point where everyone is serving only themselves, and the world becomes unlivable. Why do we always frame it as a battle with a hero and a villain? In the typical interpretation, the villain uses violence to disrupt society, and the hero responds with more violence to destroy the villain. But in Christianity, Jesus showed us a different way. His answer to violence and evil was love. He overcame evil with goodness. Why can’t we interpret eschatology and the Second Coming of Christ in that light?

Maybe evil will rise, but so will goodness, and the goodness will overcome it—not through violence, but through love. Why do we always default to the idea that violence is the only answer for evil in this world?

When you think about eschatology, you seldom see grace in it. What is the role of grace in eschatology? Why isn’t that emphasized more?

Anonymous: This subject is one I’ve always wanted us to discuss in our class. It’s such a refreshing departure from the almost routine topics we’ve explored in the past. I truly appreciate this session because every note I’ve heard today has been so valuable—so in line with many of my own thoughts. That’s probably why I’ve enjoyed it so much. I can’t wait to read it again and again, because it’s so rich—it needs to be revisited and reflected upon.

Just this morning, I was reading Jeremiah chapter 30, and while I don’t mean to answer Kiran’s question directly, I was thinking along the same lines. Grace, in the end, is the ultimate answer to all the evil of humanity. As I read Jeremiah, I circled many phrases that highlight this point. All the troubles we’ve experienced—from creation until now—are rooted in God’s deep commitment to our salvation. He is so serious about saving us that He’s willing to use what might seem like severe methods. In His own words, He speaks of “cruel discipline.” That doesn’t mean He’s cruel; rather, it reflects the intensity of His effort to face and overcome the evil within us. The enemy—Satan—is so cruel that God’s methods sometimes appear harsh, but they are meant to bring us back to Him.

In Jeremiah, God says, “I am the one who struck you, because I want to bring you back to union with Me, back to the land you left.” While the text is metaphorical, the message is clear: God disciplines us to restore us. At the end of the chapter, it says, “In the last days, you will understand this.” Thank God for not showing us the future so clearly! Like a GPS, He reveals it little by little, which strengthens our faith and dependence on Him.

I share the same wonderings as Dr. Weaver about why we’re so consumed with knowing the future. We constantly want to know what’s coming next, and that mirrors my own life recently, as I’ve faced cancer. Honestly, I don’t care about tomorrow. I don’t care to know what it holds. My focus is on my walk with God, moment by moment, until I die. Whether I’m healed or not doesn’t matter, because death will come eventually.

I don’t mean to be rude, but sometimes this obsession with the final events of Revelation—within our church and others—feels excessive. It’s good to study and know about these things, but do we need to dissect every tiny detail? As the events unfold, they become clear in hindsight. Why do we need to know it all in advance? It seems unnecessary.

Carolyn, I face the same challenge you do. I always want to be closer to God, but there are moments when I feel like I’m slipping away, even for a very short time. It’s unsettling. When I feel that distance, it’s like being lukewarm, and I’m not happy about it. I know how you feel—that sense that something is coming between you and God. Of course, He’s always with us; there’s no doubt about that.

But I’ve realized that even these moments of distance are part of God’s discipline. They bring us to our knees, reminding us how weak we are and how quickly we can drift away. It’s like gasping for air when you’re drowning—desperately crying out, “Lord, where are You? Please take this feeling away and bring me closer to You!” The world is so good at pulling us away, and Satan is an expert at making us feel distant from God. But thank God for His grace, which always draws us back to Him and shames Satan’s efforts.

We need that constant connection to God, but it’s challenging. Sometimes it feels almost impossible because life demands our attention. Honestly, I probably have the least responsibilities of anyone in this group. All I have to do is cook my food, clean my house, and take care of myself. I have so much time to spend with God, yet there are hours—sometimes two or three—when He doesn’t even cross my mind because I’m so focused on what I’m doing. And then, suddenly, I feel so thirsty for Him. I open my Bible, and immediately, I feel renewed. That’s the best feeling.

Thank God for that need to be close to Him. If we don’t feel it, we risk drifting further and further away without even realizing it. I’m so grateful for this discussion, David. Thank you for the way you presented it—the broad perspective you brought to Revelation. It was fantastic. I can’t wait for more conversations on this topic—not to figure out the details of the future, but to draw closer to God through these studies. It’s a great start. Please continue to explore this subject—it’s worth it.

Donald: I would like us to explore an idea: Are we assuming that God’s map is the Bible? And then, the second thing I’m pondering is this: If we were taking a journey using a GPS and we found ourselves always at the center of the screen—in Christ’s arms—would we even care which way we were going, as long as we stayed there? Would we be so focused on the past or the future, or would we live in the present, in Christ’s arms, and simply do what Christ advocates for us to do?

David: I began this talk professing humility—somewhat flippantly—but I’ve grown genuinely humbled by everyone’s insights. I thought this would just be a “one-off” discussion, but I now realize Don was absolutely right when he said the Book of Revelation is both a theological minefield and a gold mine for spiritual exploration.

To be honest, I didn’t know what I was getting into at the beginning of this, and now I’m even more certain of that.

Don: Maybe next week we can continue our discussion and tackle the important questions Kiran raised about how grace fits into the end-time events.

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